


For whom does my heart burn?

by AndromedaofOthys



Series: Dies Irae/Kajiri Kamui Kagura fics [2]
Category: Dies Irae (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood Loss, Eleonore von Wittenburg Cares About Beatrice von Kircheisen, Eleonore von Wittenburg is Bad At Feelings, F/F, Gen, Kei Route (Dies Irae) Compliant, Mentioned Eleonore's not so subtle crush on Reinhard, Mild Blood, Oaths & Vows, POV Eleonore von Wittenburg, Sick Beatrice von Kircheisen, Sick Character, don't come at me it's canon, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaofOthys/pseuds/AndromedaofOthys
Summary: Direct prequel to (un)Reality of Dreams. Beatrice falls sick, Eleonore helps her get through it, and a sneak peek into Eleonore's mind during Kei's Route
Relationships: Beatrice von Kircheisen & Eleonore von Wittenburg
Series: Dies Irae/Kajiri Kamui Kagura fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923934
Kudos: 1





	For whom does my heart burn?

It had been a mere week after the news of Lord Heydrich’s death were broken to Eleonore and three days since the Golden Beast paid her a personal visit to reassure her he was very much alive and well. Eleonore was still stuck in her bed, burns aching and tugging uncomfortably at the unburned half of her body, but she didn’t care a whit; she was still doing the paperwork for the supply runs, sending reports and organizing the missions with Beatrice’s help. Her golden master was still alive, and her pledge remained unchallenged, unshaken; she had not been disloyal to her master, and her knightly honor no longer demanded her to avenge the man.

That was all she needed to continue working.

However…

“What are you doing here, Private?” she barked, not even caring to modulate her voice for the normal humans. She was on the road of becoming an immortal Einherjar – she would not debase herself with trying to pretend she was normal, not even in front of the lowest of grunts.

“E-excuse my intrusion, Major Wittenburg,” the boy stuttered, and Eleonore exhaled the drag of tobacco she’d taken, suddenly feeling disgusted at the cowardice and meekness. Were all the greenhorns this useless? “I was sent to give you the supply chain packet that arrived from Berlin today.”

“A grunt doing officer’s work?” Eleonore huffed, rolling her eyes. “Where’s Kircheisen? That’s her job, not yours, Private.”

That was a little harsh, but Eleonore needed to remind these greenhorns that just because they had two female superiors, it did not mean they could skirt the chain of command – particularly since the most common excuse upon being caught doing such things seemed to be ‘it was not a woman’s job’. Bullshit – Eleonore and Beatrice fought every step of the way to get their promotions and then to be sent to the active battlefields, and had it not been for Lord Heydrich’s casual praise of their skills, Eleonore was sure they’d still be stuck in Berlin, patrolling the streets.

Damn the men whose egos were threatened by the mere presence of women among their ranks; complete wastes of air and space. Even Brenner, the accursed bitch, had high enough standards for the men she bedded to not go for that type.

“Lieutenant Kircheisen was… the one to send me, Major,” the boy said quietly, and Eleonore nearly blew her gasket at that. What was her little fool thinking?! “She’s very sick, Major.”

“Sick?”

That had to be some sort of a joke. Beatrice, just like Eleonore, was an Einherjar in making – no common man’s illnesses could strike her down, and if it had been something serious, the disease would’ve definitely spread among the soldiers and Eleonore would’ve gotten the report on it. Besides, it was just yesterday that Beatrice was bringing her coffee, chattering away in her usual fashion and helping her plan an offensive on the Eastern Front to capture the oil field they needed for resupplying; there was no way she could’ve caught something serious.

“Yes,” the boy continued, earning himself some points for bravery in face of Eleonore’s boiling rage. “She fell sick early this morning, and doctors wanted to have her taken to Kiev for better treatment, but she refused.”

“Fine,” Eleonore snapped, swiping the packet with all the information she’d requested, noting the double seal of both _Hakenkreuz_ and _Longinus Dreizehn Orden_ on the packet – Spinne had apparently come through to fill in the inevitable gaps official information would leave. Honestly, Berlin had to get their act straight, because Eleonore was getting tired of fighting the war at the actual battlefront and in the offices with idiots. “Get back to your duties.”

“I-I-I was assigned as L-l-lieutenant’s replace-”

“I said, _get back to your duties!_ ” Eleonore snarled at the hapless greenhorn. To his credit, he still managed to sketch a salute before quickly retreating, never once turning his back to her, so she couldn’t call him entirely hopeless.

Stomping out of her own tent, heedless of the murmurs and gasps of her subordinates at the sight she presented with all her bandages peeking from underneath her uniform and hastily tied-up hair, Eleonore set her sights to the medical tent, where Beatrice should’ve been.

“Kircheisen!”

“Major,” one of the nurses hurried up to her as Eleonore ducked inside the tent. “Please don’t come closer, your wounds might get infected -”

“I don’t care,” Eleonore shouldered past the woman, going straight for the only bed with the curtains drawn. If it turned out to be ploy to get out of the work -!

Wrenching the curtains open, Eleonore’s heart froze over.

Beatrice was laying peacefully in the bed, an angelic smile on her face, still in her uniform… and everything around her was crimson red. Sheets, pillow, the bucket beside the bed – it was all either splattered or full of blood and slime that looked like phlegm.

“What happened to her?!”

“We have no idea,” the nurse shook her head. “She showed up very early today, complaining she had trouble breathing, but the moment we touched her, well… We can’t stop her from coughing up blood.”

As if to underline nurse’s words, in front of Eleonore’s terrified eyes Beatrice’s body convulsed, still wearing that serene smile, and the blood gushed out again from her lips, staining the pillow and the white shirt under the gray and olive uniform.

“Damn it!” Eleonore’s hand shot towards the only unstained white object around – the towel at the head of the bed – and dabbed at the trickling liquid, fruitlessly trying to return the life-giving blood into her subordinate’s body. She was strong, Eleonore had never any doubts about it, but at this point in time, none of the Knights of Longinus Dreizehn Orden were unbreakable, and if this continued, seat Five would be empty and Eleonore would lose the only comrade aside from lord Heydrich who truly could understand her feelings regarding the knighthood. “Do we have enough blood?”

“No. It’s coming from Kiev, we don’t have anyone else with Lieutenant’s blood type here,” was the less than satisfactory answer, and Eleonore hissed. She wished she could do it herself – she was already faster than any machine – but there was no way for her to leave and come back without anyone noticing. Schreiber and Beatrice could’ve done it – they were literally made for speed – but one was unconscious, and the other was unreliable to the point only lord Heydrich could request anything of him and expect things be done.

“How long has she been unconscious?”

“An hour at most.”

Well, that was some good news.

“However, we’re having trouble keeping her stable – her body temperature is oscillating so much, it’ll damage her internal organs if it continues.”

Eleonore frowned, placing her hand she wasn’t using to wipe away the blood with towel on Beatrice’s forehead, and found it both sticky with sweat and icy cold – as if she was freezing and burning up at the same time.

“I’ll stay with her and keep her warm,” the tone brokered no negotiations, and nurse sighed, already all-too used to Eleonore’s style of command and miracles she seemed to pull out of her ass when it came to cases of hypothermia.

“I will have to ask you to keep things quiet, then.”

Eleonore huffed at the implied reproach and turned back to her subordinate. A soft shuffling alerted her to the fact they were semi-alone now, and Eleonore clasped Beatrice’s hand, feeling the fire rise inside her to heat up her and her subordinate’s skin. She’d likely have to act as a heat blanket if she wanted to keep Beatrice’s temperature consistent, but she appeared to be in between the peak and drop, so it was not necessary.

“Of course you’d have a blood type so rare they’d have to go to fucking Kiev to get it,” Eleonore muttered, taking a look at the chart that contained the copy of the blood order. “Damn AB negatives.”

The rarest blood type, Eleonore recalled from the various blood requests she’d signed off on, and the only one that Eleonore’s battalion actually routinely got asked to donate to the other battalions. Beatrice had always been a champion, giving her blood to other battalions whenever she could get away with it and even going as far as to store the blood for herself in case of bigger injury, but not even that was apparently enough in this case.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Kircheisen, not like this,” Eleonore murmured, leaning forward until her mouth was next to Beatrice’s ear. “We promised each other we’d ride together until the twilight of time, did we not? Two valkyries, forever bound to their duty and each other, under Odin’s gaze.”

Of course, it’d be a completely different thing if they died in their Valhalla, where their immortality would kick in and bring them back the moment they died (Eleonore had quickly figured out how the Valhalla would work the moment she felt Lord Heydrich fire up his Beri’ah for the first time), but it was still a long time away. Until then, she had to keep herself and Beatrice alive with their own power.

A new coughing fit wrecked the sleeping Beatrice’s body, all that more eerie due to how serene and relaxed her face was, and another rivulet of blood dribbled out of her mouth – slightly smaller than before, Eleonore noticed with quiet relief – but her temperature instantly dropped to near hypothermic levels, and Eleonore threw herself over her subordinate, chanting her craving to herself over and over.

_Let me burn forever in the light of Gold. Let me burn forever in the light of Gold. Let me burn forever in the light of Gold._

She could not go above Assiah level, but it was still enough to warm the air around her to the point it’d make normal people sweat profusely. On Beatrice, however, it only had a mild effect – she was not chillingly cold anymore, but it was still not the temperature that would be entirely healthy, and Eleonore could not up the temperature without risking burns.

“C’mon, you pigheaded fool, pull through,” Eleonore hissed, fighting the fire so it would be not expand too much. It was contrary to its natural state as Hegemony, but she could not burn everything around her. “You’re not allowed to die like this, do you hear me! It’s an order!”

“ _Ja_ … _wohl…_ ”

Eleonore lifted her head from Beatrice’s chest as hope surged up – had she imagined that word coming out of her subordinate’s mouth? Beatrice’s eyes remained closed, and her mouth tilted up in that ambiguous smile, but there was a sharpness to the corners of her eyes that made Eleonore think she was at least aware enough to know who’s she’s talking to.

“Kircheisen? Do you hear me?”

“ _Ja_ …”

The confirmation was breathy, paper-thin and barely audible, but it was enough for Eleonore – Beatrice was hanging on, and conscious enough to respond.

“Get a hang of yourself, Kircheisen,” Eleonore ordered her, moving away to grab the water cup, but a groan stopped her.

“ _Fe_ _u_ _…_ ”

Feu? What – oh. _Feuer_ – fire. Eleonore cursed to herself as she laid back over Beatrice, blindly groping for the water the little fool desperately needed. She was apparently still feeling cold, and it was only the presence of Eleonore’s heat that kept her strong enough to continue talking.

“Why do you have to be such a problem, Kircheisen,” Eleonore muttered, finally finding the edge of the cup and gripping on it, bringing it over to Beatrice’s mouth. “You have to drink water until we get that blood from Kiev. The supplies we have here are basically gone.”

The alarming number of empty blood packets in the hazard bin near Beatrice’s bed told a frightening story of just how much blood she’d lost in the last couple of hours, and even the transfusion had barely managed to keep her well enough until this point in time. Gulping noises from above told Eleonore Beatrice was swallowing water, which was good because the saline drip she was on looked about to run out.

“Major?” The doctor peeked in, spotted Eleonore giving Beatrice water and instantly shuffled in. “Lieutenant, are you with us?”

Beatrice moaned a quiet ‘yes’, still barely capable of speech, and Eleonore did not move a millimeter as doctor started checking her subordinate over her.

“Still sweaty, pulse difficult to find but stable,” he rattled off his findings, more for Eleonore’s sake than anything else. “At a glance lower than normal temperature, but outside perimeters that would qualify as hypothermia… any more blood coughing?”

“Twice since I came in,” Eleonore answered, and doctor nodded, jotting something down.

“Rate is slowly decreasing, can’t be sure about the volume but things are looking pretty good overall – the message from Kiev is that the blood is being sent post-haste.”

Someone from the Orden must’ve intervened – the most logical being Brenner, the only member who was always at the SS headquarters now that she was expecting a child. Eleonore gritted her teeth and resolved to stiffly thank the other woman for securing the package of blood packs coming early amid the chaos of the eastern front.

But now, she had another duty – keep Beatrice and her temperature as level as possible.

* * *

It wasn’t until deep into the night that Beatrice was finally fully conscious and capable of actions of her own will, and even those were limited as she quickly fell into an exhausted, but restful sleep as she stopped coughing blood regularly and was hooked up on blood drip form the newly arrived batch from Kiev. Eleonore had stayed at her side the entire time, issuing orders and transferring all of her paperwork to the makeshift desk at Beatrice’s side so she’d still be able to do everything she was supposed to.

“How is she?”

Eleonore whirled in her seat at the familiar and beloved soothing voice of her commander.

“Lord Heydrich!” she saluted, frantically scrambling to get on one knee, but Lord Heydrich stopped her with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Stay seated, Samiel.” He approached the bed and sat at the foot of it, gazing at Beatrice’s sleeping face with that same, mysterious Mona Lisa-esque smile he always wore. “How is Valkyria?”

It was still strange to hear those names as reference to her and her subordinate, but apparently, some time between Eleonore passing her own test of devotion and gaining Demon Name Samiel Zentaur and today, Beatrice had passed her own test and gained the name Valkyria. How it happened in those three days, Eleonore had no idea, but she could not force herself to call Beatrice Valkyria to her face. It seemed almost wrong to call her that, and considering how Beatrice still stubbornly called her Major in private, she wasn’t alone.

“Tired, but out of danger,” Eleonore reported, sneaking a glance at Beatrice before looking back at her commander, who still only had eyes for her subordinate. “We’re still unsure what happened that caused such an episode.”

“Her title,” was the laconic answer as the man placed his gloved hand atop the sheets, right where Beatrice’s heart should be. “It seems her heart and mind have had trouble accepting her craving and title… or there was some hidden condition that needed to be fulfilled before her craving could fully manifest, and excess power attacked her body.”

Eleonore gaped at that. That should’ve been completely impossible! Beatrice had confided in Eleonore about her desire – to light the way for her comrades under the smoke-filled skies, to make sure all of Eleonore’s shots struck cleanly and efficiently, for no friendly fire to occur and no major break in the ranks to happen. She wanted to be the guiding light, the lightning that would split the sky and taint it her own color – how could the discrepancy happen? There was no contradiction there!

“I see you find the first explanation as absurd as I do,” Heydrich continued lightly, closing his eyes. “Valkyria is no weather-vane – she may have hard time finding what she truly wants and believes in, but she stood firm once she found her own truth – which only opens more questions, if I’m going to be frank with you, Samiel. What could possibly be stopping Valkyria from fully accepting herself and her own power?”

“I’ll find it out,” Eleonore vowed, both to her sleeping subordinate and her commander. “I swear, I’ll find out what happened today.”

“Do not stress yourself over it, Samiel,” Heydrich smiled at her, and Eleonore fought the blush raising to her cheeks, reminding herself to stay professional. He was her Lord Commander – nothing was going to get in the way of her duty to him. “Valkyria is a rather stubborn one – do not take it to heart if you cannot get it out of her quickly. I sincerely doubt it will influence the emanation of Valhalla, in any case – her trueness to herself will see her through to the bitter end what she’d pledged to do.”

Eleonore nodded, accepting the veiled order to not rush into things – after all, Beatrice was part of Longinus Dreizehn Orden, she had gotten into this with her eyes wide open and with a good idea what awaited her in the end. Unlike idiots like Kristoff and Brenner who wanted resurrection of the dead, or lunatics like Schreiber and Bey who just wanted to keep killing without check and reason, she and Beatrice were soldiers and raised in knightly tradition. The dead were not something they wanted to return, for dead were dead, so the only thing in front of them was immortality: after all, the two had sworn to each other the moment they reached Yetzirah degree they’d stick together.

_No one and nothing will ever separate us,_ Eleonore could still hear the bright, determined voice of her subordinate as she dipped the tip of the ornate, ceremonial Viking dagger they had liberated from _Deutsches Ahnenerbe_ for this little pledge into the open fire, and held it there until it started to heat up. 

After the blade started gleaming, she took it out and deliberately and quickly cut her palm, handing it over to Eleonore. They had to heat the blade up to make even the slightest cut, and even that was barely enough to make them bleed, but they could not risk _Thrud Walkure_ in case it would try to devour Eleonore’s soul.

_No one and nothing,_ Eleonore had confirmed, grasping Beatrice’s slim palm into her bigger, but still slender hand, letting the blood mingle.  _We will ride together to the end of the time, be together forever._

_My blade is yours, and my life is yours_ , Beatrice had added on the pledge, completely off-script, and Eleonore  had  flailed briefly at the level of trust the other was showing her before accepting it,  even though she had not been to add the equivalent pledge  on the spot .  She had felt pretty terrible about it at the time – it still stung slightly, in fact – but Beatrice had reassured  her she expected no such thing in the return.

_You’re now the most important person I have,_ she had just waved it all off.  _This is my way of showing it. No one gets to have a say about my life but you and I, okay?_

Maybe she should have pressed it back then… but Eleonore didn’t want to go too hard, not after such a monumental pledge. But at least she now had an idea where to start pressing her subordinate in her spare time.

Lord Heydrich shimmered out of the existence, and Eleonore sighed, returning to her papers. She still had much to do, and she was feeling Beatrice’s absence at her side fiercely – there was no one to distract her with their mouthing off, no one to snark at the pretentious letters she had to answer to politely…

“Wake up soon, Kircheisen,” Eleonore murmured before the paperwork swallowed her again.

* * *

Looking back on that time, Eleonore had many regrets.

Maybe… she wouldn’t have lost her the way she did, if she had pressed. If only she had pulled her little Brynhildr with her into Valhalla, been less permissive of her extreme cherry-picking, spent more time with her…

If only she hadn’t broken their pledge to forever stay at each other’s side, and Beatrice didn’t break her pledge of laying her life at Eleonore’s sole mercy… maybe her premature death was the result of the broken oath, of the pledge violation. Of course, the pledge had not been violated in spirit, but it had certainly been violated in the letter of it. Eleonore had left Beatrice in the fires of Berlin, having been reborn under the light of the Gold, and the two’s connection had been cut off. Only Lord Heydrich could at that point communicate with the mortal plane, and even that was a tenuous connection that worked only in Shambhala for brief bursts – there was no way Eleonore and Beatrice could exchange words, or even just hear each other’s voices, before the Transmutation of Gold started.

Descending on the mortal plane and learning of her demise, with the implications that one of the other members of Obsidian Table killed her since Kristoff deliberately omitted the name of her murderer… she could understand why Lord Heydrich had permitted her early descent despite her perfectionist tendencies. It wasn’t just a mission to further the ritual, it was also a way for her to let out all of her frustrations with them all.

Brenner, Kristoff, Bey, Malleus, Spinne, the brat that took Beatrice’s seat… well, she couldn’t be angry at Cain, the corpse was hardly more than a puppet for Brenner, but even it would bear the brunt of her anger if she discovered Brenner had made it complicit in her dear Valkyria’s death. The first to run afoul of her will get incinerated, that much was set in stone, it was merely the matter of whom would it be.

The only light in the misery of the situation was the fact Beatrice had not disgraced herself – she had died in the embrace of the first Swastika, ensuring she would one day be able to join Eleonore in the plains of Valhalla. It would not be easy for the little fool, but Eleonore had faith in her subordinate – she was as obstinate as Machina, who had braved that gauntlet before, and powerful enough not to be driven to madness by it.

Even in death, Beatrice Waltrud von Kircheisen kept her vows to her superior as best as she could, loyal and unflinching in her dedication to her ideal. Eleonore truly could not have asked for a better subordinate… or better entertainment, really. The long sixty years in Valhalla made her miss those all-too-human traits that never seemed to fade away from Beatrice’s soul, no matter how much she bloodied her hands, and Eleonore needed her by her side. She needed to see those azure eyes and hear the incessant yapping about love and adventure and whatever other nonsense lived in the fool’s head every day to feel completely satisfied with her promised eternity.

Was that love? Eleonore wasn’t quite sure. She had little experience with love, only with devotion that came alongside loyalty, and camaraderie born of many shared memories… Brenner would surely know better, but Eleonore would be damned if she ever talked with that bitch about emotions.

Crashing through the canopy of sky and the veil that separated Valhalla from the mortal realm, Eleonore landed with deceptive ease on the steel pillar of the bridge in the middle of Shambhala. Looking around herself, she spotted Brenner and Cain on the bridge.

Guess she knew who the next target was; it would surely be satisfying to burn Brenner to ashes. Well, she’d prefer to do it to Kristoff, but there was the slight matter of Heilige Eohl, the Divine Vessel that was her master’s body, that prevented her from acting on her righteous fury. Oh well – she’d give Brenner the chance to explain herself and other members before she started sniffing around what had happened eleven years ago, and everyone better pray she does not find them with Valkyria’s blood staining their hands.

* * *

“Partial attachment, huh…”

Eleonore couldn’t help but grin savagely as she felt the undead gestalt of Tubal Cain evaporate on the seventh swastika, but with only three gargantuan souls joining the Valhalla – the fourth one did not get absorbed, instead separating and striking Kristoff down with a blade most beautiful, wrought not of steel but of peerless, untainted lightning.

“Well done, my valkyrie, my dear subordinate.”

Were Eleonore any other woman, she’d have shed a tear at the appearance of her beloved subordinate, seemingly back from the dead. For all intents and purposes, Beatrice Waltrud von Kircheisen was indeed back from the dead; despite only having one soul to her name, she had already gotten to the threshold of becoming Einherjar all by herself, and the souls she had released on the first swastika were now dyeing her soul in the fiercest of white-blues as she positioned herself between the brat that succeeded her and Lord Heydrich.

“Guess I have to thank you too, Brenner, for taking pity on the fool – makes me glad I decided to participate in that farce.”

The words were not aimed in any particular direction, but it didn’t matter inside the castle: if you said it, Isaak would hear it and relay it to others inside. Speaking of those inside the castle… With Beatrice’s revival the spot of Albedo in the pentachroma would easily be filled (even the colors of two speedsters poetically matched, one white and the other white-blue), and the whelp Machina obsessed over and her lord claimed would bring him the unknown was there, vibrating with readiness to fight. Even the presence of the damned Sakurai brat that had taken Beatrice’s seat in Eleonore’s absence from the mortal plane did nothing to spoil the crimson knightess’ mood, for she was ready to welcome her former subordinate into the ranks of Einherjar. And what a way to be inducted: at the precipice of the emanation of Valhalla, asked to become one of the pentachroma’s colors, one of the supporting pillars of the Transmutation of Gold…

… but the fool decided to refuse. Idiot girl – it seemed like some good old discipline was needed to bring her in the fold. No wonder Lord Heydrich allowed her to have free reign, despite the potential danger of her unleashing Muspellheim Laevateinn inside the cradle of Gladsheimr – her little fool needed to be brought to heel, and Eleonore learned long ago that nothing but overwhelming force would do the trick.

Also… that opened one question Eleonore thought she had buried long before. Why had Beatrice decided to participate in this ritual, only to summarily reject it at the end? Sniffing around the circumstances of her demise revealed a terrifying nest of lies that made Eleonore viciously unhappy she could not punish Kristoff herself, but it also told her one more thing: Beatrice had stepped into the ritual fully aware of what needed to be done, and what it would bring upon its completion. So why was she doing this? Defying Lord Heydrich – defying _her_ , her former superior – after she’d already started everything?

It was a question that bothered her, and she resolved herself to finding out. What better time to fulfill her Lord’s request from all those years ago than now? Of course, Kristoff tried to sell it off as her being reckless and taking Krafft’s words too literally, but like Eleonore would buy that horseshit. She also didn’t buy the excuse that she wanted to be with that Sakurai brat longer – Beatrice was a demon just like Eleonore, a maiden of war through and through. Child-rearing? Guidance of the next generation? They may have been the unexpected side-effects of her desire to be the guiding light during peace time, but they were not her objective – they couldn’t be. Nothing so frivolous could chain down the Valkyria, the shield-maiden of Valhalla, and to claim such a thing only showed how little they understood of Beatrice’s true nature.

She had been born for war – nay, she’d _re_ _made herself for the war_. Eleonore had watched her transform like a butterfly: from a ditzy girl with a surprisingly resilient streak to a full-fledged nightmare on the battlefield as she blitzed through countless enemy soldiers, never once faltering in her desire to clear the path for the others. Where had that girl gone? Had she simply been buried under the veneer of normality Eleonore divested herself of to continue living on the mortal plane? Had Beatrice actually tried to reject that part of herself, and failing that, got herself killed?

What was the truth? Eleonore needed to know. She burned on the inside to know… and wasn’t that the strangest thing? She was supposed to only burn for her Lord...


End file.
